


it don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that swing)

by pacificnewt



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, M/M, Minor NSFW, hermann is a journalist, newt owns a club in the 40s, they have an interesting first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificnewt/pseuds/pacificnewt
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb was not a fan of crowds, much less of clubs.





	it don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that swing)

**Author's Note:**

> this was quick im sorry but i might write more of them with this au i love this for them

_June 6, 1944_

_New York City, New York_

 

Hermann Gottlieb was not a fan of crowds, much less of clubs. He had a considerably hard time getting behind the idea of a tight, packed room where everybody was dancing and it was too hot and loud. Even the thought of it caused him to nervously tug on his collar. He looked down at his outfit-- how was he even supposed to know if he was dressed for one of these things? He sighed with a twinge of hopefulness when he looked at his simple white button-down shirt tucked into simple dress pants, a calm shade of brown, and red suspenders that clung to his shoulders. Hermann licked his thumb and messed with his hair just a bit before he adjusted his suspenders, clenched his notepad in hand, and decided to head inside (after holding the door open for a woman who passed right in front of him).

 

Hermann slipped inside quickly, shocked immediately once he closed the door behind him. The place was _packed_. From past a hoard of people Hermann could both see and hear a band plucking out a few hits from the widely loved Duke Ellington. He felt a smile tug at his lips, for he liked the sound. He hadn’t ever heard anything quite like it.

 

“Hey, buddy, you got business here?” A large-looking man by the door tapped Hermann on the shoulder, nearly scaring him out of his skin. Hermann froze immediately, then cleared his throat and nodded.

 

“I’m looking for the owner of this establishment?” He cringed. For a twenty-five year old, he sounded twelve. “My name is Hermann Gottlieb, I’m a journalist. I’ve been asked to write about this… place,” he explained. “I just would like to exchange a few words with him.”

 

The man narrowed his eyes at Hermann, who gulped, then nodded. Hermann followed him through a mass of sweating bodies, much to his own dismay, until they came upon a circular area close to the stage. Hermann’s eyes trailed up across velvety red ropes to see a few couches facing each other, a young man on one, and three girls around him. There was one leaning excitedly onto each of his arms and one dressed in an outfit that looked to be comprised completely of feathers in his lap. She looked to be dancing right on his body in a rather… _provocative_ way. Hermann’s face flushed bright and he looked away, sweaty palms wrinkling the first sheet of paper on his notepad.

 

The man slinked away for a moment which snapped Hermann’s attention right back. He left Hermann behind to approach the man on the couch. He tapped him on the shoulder much like he’d done to Hermann, mumbled a sentence or two to him, and the supposed owner looked up to meet Hermann’s eyes. He smirked, then nodded.

 

“Sorry, babes, but Daddy’s got business.” He ushered the girl on him off, and she pouted. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek while both the other girls stood and scampered away over the ropes. The man left on the couch spread his arms out over the edge of the couch, crossed his legs, and used one finger to signal to Hermann he should join him. Hermann swallowed thickly and complied.

 

“Um, good evening,” he stammered once he was in earshot. The music really was loud, especially nearer to the stage. “Is it alright if I have a brief conversation with you?”

 

“I always got time for fans,” the young man replied with a lazy smile. Hermann studied his figure while he lifted one of the ropes just enough for him to duck underneath. “Sit anywhere, make yourself comfortable.” The man had his hair slicked only out of his forehead, and it looked to be a mess everywhere else. He wore a white suit and had a matching fedora-type hat on a cushion near him. His tie was red.

 

Hermann nodded and sat barely across from him, heart thumping against his ribcage. “Right. Um. My name is Hermann Gottlieb. I’m a journalist from Germany, you see, and it’s always been a dream of mine to write about things in America. When I came to New York I found that your club here is held in a high regard, so I thought it would be nice to write something on it. May I ask your name?”

 

“Newton Geiszler,” he said, barely missing a beat.

 

Hermann began to jot it down. “Geiszler. Are you a German as well?”

 

“Born and raised in Berlin,” he replied. “But please, call me Newt.”

 

“Right. Newt.” It felt only slightly bitter in his mouth, for Hermann liked to be professional. “I see you avoided the war.”

 

“Barely.” Newt laughed and took the last remaining sip from the glass he had on the table near his feet. He clinked around the ice as a sign somebody should get him a new drink. “Lucky me, I never got drafted. Dad did somethin’ to make it that way, dunno what, but God bless him. Stayed here while he fought, took care of the place for him. Next thing I know I get a letter back sayin’ Allied powers shot him. Just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “boom. Place is mine.” Newt ran a hand through his hair and laughed to himself. “Funny how that works, eh? German-born, lives and operates in America, forced to fight on Germany’s side anyways. Killed by an American who mighta been his friend, who’s to say? War ain’t a game, write that in your little notebook.” Somebody came to replace his drink. “You want anything?”

 

Hermann busied himself with scrawling things down, so much so he nearly forgot to look up. “No, thank you, I don’t drink.”

 

Nodding, Newt took his new glass and downed a sip with a refreshed sigh afterwards. “How ‘bout you, Herms? Why ain’t you fightin’?”

 

Hermann winced inwardly at the nickname. “Technically speaking, I am. I work for a company that writes for the war effort, all sorts of things.” He kept writing through his explanation. “Casualty reports, battle descriptions, all for the newspapers. I suppose I lucked out in missing the Nazi propaganda,” he chuckled. Newt laughed as well, but sounded as though he knew he shouldn’t be.

 

“Interesting. Then what’s my club have to do with the war?”

 

“There’s been an influx of employment with the war overseas, so there have been many people begging for jobs because of the problems with the economy. There have been too many people passionate about journaling over handling arms and rations, I suppose. We have too many reporters. The man I work under sent a handful of us here to New York to write about the entertainment business in America, because it, from what I understand, is rich.”

 

“Got that right.” Newt smiled “It’s ‘cause nobody wants to focus on all that death happening out there. So they come here, they go to other bars and clubs, they go to Broadway, they see a movie, all sorts of things. It’s a time to be alive.” Now he was beaming as the band picked up another chorus to the song. “You like swing?”

 

Hermann assumed he referred to the music. “I can’t say I’ve heard anything quite like it. Music in Germany is… _quite_ different.” He tapped the pen on the paper. “How old are you, Mr. Geiszler?”

 

“Newt,” he corrected again. He decided ultimately to ignore the question. “Care to dance?”

 

“I, um,” Hermann stammered. “I’m afraid I don’t dance.”

 

Newt jumped to his feet and extended his hand toward the timid man. “Let’s go. It don’t take skill.”

 

When Hermann didn’t accept his hand, Newt grabbed it and pulled him up by force. Hermann dropped his pen and paper on the ground. Newt pulled him back up again when he bent down to grab it. He was trapped.

 

The song the band was playing came to a close, then a new one started up after a minor spell of applause. Newt grinned and started to move his arms in the air as the beginning of a dance. “This one is _old!”_

 

Hermann stood awkwardly, stiff as a statue. He was starting to perspire and his hands shook. Newt took notice and put his hands on his shoulders, moving him oh so gently. “Come on, man, just put some soul into it! Move your legs a little, swing those hips, and there ya go!”

 

“I don’t--” Hermann didn’t get very far before he nearly squealed. Newt’s hands had found their way onto his waist, forcefully rolling his hips just a bit. Newt’s face ghosted a smirk and Hermann’s cheeks fumed.

 

“Don’t look so embarrassed, sweetheart, it’s just a dance.” Newt moved his own hips in a similar fashion while he kept his hands on Hermann’s. He stepped and closed the gap between them. They moved in sync. “I’m twenty-five, to answer your question,” Newt whispered with lips brushed against Hermann’s ear. Both men’s skin flushed.

 

Hermann opened his mouth to speak, but choked on whatever he meant to say. He felt all eyes on them, and Newt didn’t seem to pay it any mind. Damn him. He was too calm, too cool, too collected. Hermann closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow any feelings of arousal he felt bubbling up inside him.

 

Newt rolled his waist in tune with the song in the air around them. He moved harder against Hermann, eliciting a nearly silent whine from the journalist’s throat. Newt dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to his neck, then Hermann involuntarily rolled back. In an instant Newt pulled away and sat back down on the couch. “So you do dance,” he said.

 

Hermann’s mouth fell open, eyes blown wide. He fell back into his seat in shock while the bastard next to him lit a cigarette and put it into his mouth. “That’s not--”

 

“Do you have any more questions?” Newt cocked an eyebrow and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Or was that it?”

 

Hermann was almost angry. “Now, hold on, I--”

 

“You what? Liked that?”

 

No response.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Newt smiled wickedly, and Hermann furrowed his brow.

 

“That wasn’t very nice of you, _Newt_ ,” he hissed.

 

He took another drag. “And what’re you planning on doing about it, Herms?”

 

Hermann looked around to make sure nobody was paying close attention to the men enclosed by the ropes. When he figured the coast was as clear as it could be in a room full of people, he flexed his hand and placed it on Newt’s thigh. Newt made a startled noise when Hermann moved it higher up his leg.

 

“Don’t get too handsy there, dollface, you want someone to see you feelin’ me up?” Newt talked with the drug dangling from his lips. He firmly grabbed Hermann’s wrist right before his hand reached his groin.

 

Hermann ignored the growing tightness in his slacks and officially decided he didn’t care who looked. He took Newt’s cigarette in his fingers, dove forward, and pressed his lips onto the other man’s. Newt made a noise that was a cross between a yelp of shock and an affirmative “took you long enough”.

 

Newt slid his tongue across Hermann’s lips and pulled a whine from him, then pulled away immediately and snatched his cigarette. “Again, we’re in public, sugar.”

 

“You had a woman all over you moments before I walked in this door,” Hermann complained.

 

“You want more of me, is that it?”

 

Hermann bit his lips, and didn’t respond. “I still have to interview you.” He fumbled to get his pad and writing utensil back in his hands. As soon as he retrieved them from the ground, a loud ruckus sounded from the main entrance. Newt and Hermann both looked over their shoulders to see a winded man through a clearing in the crowd.

 

“Allied forces have invaded northern France!” The man cried. “Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy!”

 

Newt and Hermann shared a look, and Newt took another swig of his alcohol. “You got lots more to write about now than just me, darlin’.” He leaned in and gathered Hermann in another kiss.


End file.
